


Let Me Take Care of You

by rakketyrivertam



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Overworking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 11:17:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22613707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rakketyrivertam/pseuds/rakketyrivertam
Summary: Grantaire rescues his boyfriend from working himself into a coma.
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire
Comments: 10
Kudos: 137





	Let Me Take Care of You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BookDragon24601](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookDragon24601/gifts).

> Giveaway fic for BookDragon6127! They asked for "a fluffy, stressed out Enjolras/exasperated Grantaire cuddling type thing", and this is what I was able to come up with.
> 
> Fun Fact: In the line "Five hundred fifty words later, he was fast asleep," asleep is the five hundred fiftieth word in the fic! XD

Courfeyrac threw up his hands as he came down the stairs. “No dice,” he announced. “Someone else’s turn.” He pivoted and pointed to Grantaire. “You. Boyfriend. Go.”

Grantaire groaned and slouched in his seat.

“Nope,” Courfeyrac said. “You actually signed up for this.”

Marius blinked. “I thought you were his best friend.”

“Yep,” Courfeyrac nodded, “but I still didn’t sign up for this.”

Grantaire sighed and stood, walking up the steps to the Musain’s back room as if he were headed to a funeral. It may very well end up being his own, he thought. He pushed open the door and leaned against the frame for a moment, taking in the sight before him.

Enjolras’ hair was frizzing, as it was wont to do just about whenever it pleased. The effect with the lights all around was to wreath his head in gold. A year ago, Grantaire would have started waxing poetic about halos and angels and only half of it would have been because of the alcohol. Now he paid more attention to the bags under Enjolras’ eyes – designer, they had to be to hold all that stress – the frown lines around his mouth – which were the only things about him that seemed to age – and the rumpled clothing that hung off his skinny frame.

“When was the last time you had food?” Grantaire asked.

Enjolras didn’t look up, simply held up the bag of popcorn he was snacking on while continuing to type half-heartedly with one hand.

“Water?”

That prompted the same reaction, this time with a half-full liter bottle.

“Sleep?”

That, at least, provoked a verbal response. “I need to get this done,” Enjolras said, his usually smooth voice rough with disuse. “It’s supposed to be in next week’s paper, so submitted…,” he checked the clock in the lower right corner of his screen, “tomorrow, midnight.”

Grantaire sighed. “So you have all of tomorrow to get it done. You’ve been working on it all week, what do you even have left to do?”

“Proofreading,” Enjolras replied. Finally, he looked away from his screen, pinching his nose and sighing deeply. “I’ve been rewriting the word ‘occasion’ for the last fifteen minutes.”

Grantaire shook his head. “Alright, scoot over, bacon,” he said, squeezing himself between Enjolras and the padded arm of the chair and taking over the keyboard. “Remember, it’s necessary for shirts to have one collar and two sleeves, but, occasionally, you get a reject with two collars and one sleeve.”

Enjolras blinked up at him, eyes struggling to adjust to the weak natural light. He looked vaguely motion sick just from turning his head. “I love you.”

Grantaire smiled thinly and pressed a kiss to Enjolras’ temple, pulling his boyfriend closer and wrapping an arm around his waist. “I love you, too. Wish you’d take better care of yourself. Of the two of us, it is not supposed to be me who is the self-care champion in this relationship.”

Enjolras shook his head. “I have to-ˮ

“Finish this,” Grantaire sighed. “I know. Alright, ten thousand words? I may be the world’s slowest reader, but I can do this.” He cracked his knuckles on one hand and dragged the laptop minutely closer.

Enjolras laid his head on Grantaire’s shoulder. Five hundred fifty words later, he was fast asleep, snoring softly. A single curl moved up and down with his breath, and another was already plastered to his open mouth.

Grantaire smiled down at him, graciously ignoring the drool accumulating on his shoulder.

An hour later, Combeferre peeked around the door.

Grantaire held a finger to his lips.

Combeferre nodded and moved into the room on soft shoes, quickly and quietly packing up Enjolras’ things.

Grantaire sighed and saved his edits before closing the laptop and then worming a hand under Enjolras’ bony knees and lifting him up in his arms.

Enjolras mumbled something unintelligible and tucked his cold nose in Grantaire’s collar.

Your place? Combeferre mouthed, shoving the laptop and its charger unceremoniously under his arm.

Grantaire nodded and the three of them made their way to the apartments next door – Grantaire carrying Enjolras and Combeferre carrying his belongings.

It took barely any time at all to get to the door of Grantaire’s studio, a bit longer to open it, and a good long while to untangle Enjolras’ arms from around his neck as he laid him in bed.

Eventually, Enjolras let go of his neck… only to fist his hands in his shirt instead.

Grantaire sighed and looked over at Combeferre, who was very obviously trying not to laugh.

Grantaire scowled at him, only half-joking, and shook his head.

Enjolras sighed and rolled over, dragging his boyfriend with him like a life-size teddy bear.

“I think you’d better cuddle him,” Combeferre whispered, smiling. “I’ll lock up.”

Grantaire nodded gratefully and crawled over Enjolras’ to wrap his arms around him comfortably. He kicked off his shoes as he cuddled closer, and then he let himself fall asleep, stroking his thumb gently over Enjolras’ shoulder, even in his rest.

The two of them stayed asleep until morning.

Grantaire was the first to wake, and he immediately pressed a kiss to Enjolras’ furrowed brow.

Enjolras shot up, lurching toward the couch where he always kept his laptop when he slept over.

Grantaire caught him around the waist. “It’s okay,” he said. “I finished the proof-reading for you, and I enabled the track changes so you can read over it again and see exactly which edits I made.”

Enjolras blinked for a moment, uncomprehending. “Oh,” he said, settling back against Grantaire.

Grantaire smoothed his hair away from his face, pressing another kiss atop it. “You scared us all.”

Enjolras sighed and leaned back, curling up against his partner again. “I know. I’m sorry. I just… had to finish it.”

“Well,” Grantaire said, holding him tight. “You didn’t have to finish it alone. Try to remember that next time?”

Enjolras nodded.

Grantaire waited a moment to see if there was anything else he had to say, then sighed and ran a hand from his shoulders down to his lower back. “Pancakes?”

Enjolras immediately perked up, nodding excitedly.

“Okay,” Grantaire said, giving Enjolras a quick kiss as he stood. “You keep resting, I’ll get us food.”

“I love you,” Enjolras said as he burrowed under the blankets. “And your food.”

Grantaire smiled. “I love you, too.”


End file.
